All for the Best
by ChoCedric
Summary: AU. Harry is distraught after the third task of the Triwizard Tournament. Not only does he have Cedric's death on his conscience, but the deaths of everyone who will be killed by Voldemort in the future. He thinks there's only one way out.


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

I'm Sorry, Cedric A.K.A. All for the Best

By: ChoCedric

Harry Potter lay in bed in the fourth-year boys' dormitory, feeling the most horrible combination of emotions. But beyond anything else, he felt immense guilt and sadness. He, by all accounts, had killed someone, a seventeen-year-old boy who had had hopes and dreams for the future.

Earlier in the year, even as short a time ago as last week, Harry had been horribly jealous of Cedric Diggory. The older boy had looked every part the Triwizard Champion: he was handsome and popular, had tons of friends, and had a beautiful girlfriend. It was true that Harry had his friends, Ron and Hermione, but for all these years, he'd yearned for something more. He'd dealt with the Dursleys' abuse ever since he could remember, and he hadn't had a parental figure in his life until Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came along. As much as he appreciated their caring for him, he wanted his own parents back. To see how much Cedric's parents, especially his father, doted upon him, filled him with a raging jealousy.

Voldemort. That's what it all came down to. Almost four years ago he'd learned that his parents had been murdered by this evil being, and three years ago he'd met him as a deformed creature attached to Professor Quirrell. Each subsequent meeting filled him with a need to play the hero, but the problem was that the whole world never seemed to understand him. There was so much of him that wanted to be normal, to be just Harry, to be loved. And Cedric had been smiling, full of happiness, even in love, walking hand in hand with Cho Chang. At the Yule Ball, it had been painful to watch them dancing. It had been painful just last week to see how his parents shone praise upon him just before the Third Task.

But oh, God. The Third Task. That's where all the guilt and sadness began. Now all the jealousy Harry had felt of Cedric seemed to be not worth it. After all, the boy was dead, and it was all his fault. "Let's take the cup together." All Harry had wanted to do was play fair, he knew how badly the older boy wanted to make the school proud, and Harry wanted to be the bigger person and somehow get past his jealousy. His crush on Cho aside, he felt it was the right thing to do.

But the right thing had gotten Cedric killed. Who was Harry to think that Voldemort wouldn't be involved in every single facet of his life? He should have known that the evil Dark Lord was going to mess up this tournament. He should have been on guard every single second, and he had gotten an innocent seventeen-year-old boy involved in something that should be just between him and Voldemort. Harry felt tears sting his eyes as he remembered everything that had happened on that terrible June night.

Why couldn't he save Cedric? he thought desperately. If only he'd had time to shout to him, to tell him to escape, to tell him to move out of the way as the Killing Curse sped towards him. It had all happened too fast. The next thing he'd known, he'd been lying on the ground with Cedric next to him, his blank, lifeless eyes staring, staring, staring at the night sky. A seventeen-year-old boy with a heart of gold, mercilessly struck down without being given even a moment to defend himself, to fight back. Harry had seen how badly Cedric had wanted to win the Triwizard Cup, but with his good heart, he had told Harry he wanted him to win. Harry had hardly known Cedric, but he'd cried every night since his death. He'd ripped Cedric away from all his loved ones: parents and a girlfriend who loved him dearly, friends who would do anything for him.

To see Cedric's parents crying over him was absolute torture as well. What broke him was the scene when he returned with Cedric's body to Hogwarts: all the students wailing, Cedric's lifeless eyes still staring, his dad screaming and howling "My son! My boy! No! No! No! No! NOOOOOO!" and his mother holding Cedric's hand tenderly as though love could bring him back. Cho was screaming "Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!" at him, and his friends were gazing blankly at his body, too numb to react. Then the talk in the hospital wing with his heartbroken parents the day after had withdrawn him into himself even more. Mr. and Mrs. Diggory had thanked him for bringing their son's body back, but Harry wished he'd returned him back differently. He wished he'd returned him back, safe and alive.

What was even worse was that now, Harry didn't have only Cedric's death on his conscience, but the deaths of every single witch or wizard who was ever going to be killed by Lord Voldemort in the future. After all, he had only been resurrected because of him. He had used Harry's blood to come back to power. Harry thought he should have fought more against Peter Pettigrew, done something more drastic to prevent the awful events from occurring. When Priori Incantatem had helped him survive, he had been gobsmacked. Looking back on it now, he felt his survival was worth nothing. Looking up into the ghostly faces of his parents tore open his already shattered and bleeding heart. His parents, who had lovingly sacrificed themselves for him, were helping a murderer, a boy who had killed not only Cedric Diggory and broke the hearts of all who loved him, but who was going to be responsible for every single death and all the heartbreak that was going to be caused by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Remembering James and Lily's kind faces made him feel incredibly nauseated, for it was like his uncle said. Who would want to love a worthless freak like him?

Ron and Hermione wouldn't understand. Dumbledore wouldn't understand. Harry had been a selfish bastard not to save Cedric. He had been stupid, foolish to think that Voldemort wouldn't tamper with the tournament. Wasn't Voldemort all his life was about? Sobs shook his frail form as he remembered Cedric falling to the ground, dead before he even hit it. The look of his eyes staring into nothingness was imprinted solidly in his mind, and he couldn't get the image to quit replaying. And oh, God, the phoenix song, and his parents' faces...''they'd be so disgusted with him if he really were to face them. They'd sacrificed themselves for nothing. All for nothing. He wished he'd been the one to die instead of Cedric. What was he still living for, anyway?

He reached for his wand, which was lying on his bedside table. Dumbledore's speech tonight at the Leaving Feast had been about doing what was right instead of what was easy. And Harry was going to do what was right; he was going to save others from the heartbreak of being around someone who did nothing but cause death and destruction. Every year he'd been at Hogwarts, something had gone wrong. First year, Voldemort had wanted to get to him, and Quirrell had died. Second year, Ginny had almost died because Tom Riddle wanted to meet Harry. Third year, dementors were set up all around the school because Sirius Black was allegedly after Harry. And this year...'a promising, seventeen-year-old boy was ripped away from the world simply because Voldemort wanted Harry and Cedric was in the way. Who would be next? Ron? Hermione? Professor Dumbledore? It just wasn't worth it. No one would miss him, they'd all forget about him eventually. Cedric had been loved, that was all too plain as he remembered the look of complete anguish and agony in Cho Chang's eyes. He'd never been loved like that, and he accepted this now. There would be no people mourning for him; it would all be for the best.

So Harry put his wand to his temple, and he knew what he was about to see was the last thing Cedric Diggory had ever seen. I'm sorry I was ever jealous of you, he thought to himself. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you. I'm so sorry, Cedric. Then, The-Boy-Who-Lived closed his eyes, and uttered the most unforgivable of curses.

"Avada Kedavra."

His world filled with green light, and a peaceful expression came upon his face as his hand fell limply to his side. His breaths stopped, and all was still.

xxx

As Ron Weasley awoke, he thought how strange it was that his best friend Harry hadn't shaken him out of his slumber. Usually, the raven-haired boy was one of the first in the dorm to stir, but not today. Ron looked at the clock and realized it was almost time to go to breakfast. He wondered if Harry had had a bad night or something, and figured he should be the one to do the shaking this time.

He pulled back the curtains on Harry's bed to reveal a still sleeping Harry. But there was something different about him today; all the guilt and anguish that Ron had seen on Harry's face ever since the Third Task was gone. It had been replaced by a serene and peaceful expression. What had changed?

"Wake up, mate," he said softly, shaking him gently. There was no response, not even a "Go away, Ron," being mumbled. That's weird, Ron thought. Harry told me he's a light sleeper. "Hey, c'mon, mate, wake up," he said, shaking Harry a little harder. There was still no response.

The next few minutes found Ron shaking Harry harder and harder, with still no answer from his best mate. Finally, he lifted the blankets from Harry and touched his skin. With a gasp, he drew back in alarm.

Harry's skin was ice cold.

With a scream of terror, he ran downstairs to the common room, where Hermione was already up and dressed. Upon hearing the news, she came up to the boys' dormitory, and tears streamed down her face when she saw how Harry looked. Other students had entered the room now, curious as to what the commotion was all about. Professor McGonnagall was notified, and even Professor Dumbledore showed himself.

The outpourings of grief and sorrow were huge; tears were leaking from Dumbledore's eyes, regret showing in every line of his face as he quietly told everyone what the last spell was that Harry had performed. He should have known that the boy had been falling. Ron and Hermione had their arms around each other, shock and anguish in their expressions. Even students like Draco Malfoy and teachers like Severus Snape were speechless. No one had really realized just how much pain Harry had been in.

It was a scene similar to the one that had occurred when Cedric had arrived at the Quidditch pitch, lifeless. It was one of the most heartwrenching moments ever witnessed, Albus Dumbledore reflected. "I never thought you blamed yourself so much, Harry," he said quietly. "I wish you'd come and talked to us. We would have been there for you. You were loved, Harry, I wish you'd understood that. Be at peace now, my boy." he whispered. "I know Lily and James will take good care of you." He silently thought of Sirius, and knew he'd have to be the one to take care of him, knowing that the man would not react well to this news at all.

And if Harry were to see the atmosphere now, he would have understood that he was wrong, that he, just like Cedric Diggory, had been loved tremendously. He would never be forgotten, and would be honored as a wonderful boy with an incredibly big heart. As Albus folded Harry's hands across his chest and tenderly squeezed them, he hoped that Harry was safe and happy now, reunited with Lily and James at last.


End file.
